Tombland

A SOLDIER LED US up two flights of stairs to the constable’s quarters. They were comfortable and brightly lit, with tapestries on the walls. A little boy sat in the hallway, playing with a wooden horse on wheels – a strange domestic touch in this place. The soldier knocked on an ancient wooden door and we were called in.

Constable Fordhill was a strongly built, middle-aged man with black hair and a short beard, dressed in a fashionable high-collared doublet. He had a military bearing and watchful grey eyes. Bowing civilly, he invited us to sit on stools before his desk. He sat behind it, studying us a moment, then spoke quietly. ‘So, the pardon request has now been lodged in London?’

‘It has, Master Fordhill.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I understand the initiative comes from the Lady Elizabeth.’

‘Yes, sir.’ This was common knowledge now.

Fordhill nodded again. ‘I take it John Boleyn is related to Anne Boleyn.’

‘Distantly, yes.’

He considered. ‘The Protector may not welcome the Lady Elizabeth’s involvement in such a scandalous matter. After the Thomas Seymour business.’

‘She wishes only to help a relative.’

‘Despite his being found guilty by a jury of his peers?’

‘I believe the verdict was wrong. There was reasonable doubt. I still seek a key witness.’

Fordhill raised his eyebrows. ‘And the Lady Elizabeth agrees with your view? And her Comptroller? Master Parry, is it not?’

I paused, then answered, ‘Yes.’ Fordhill raised an eyebrow, noting my hesitation. I continued. ‘I am advised it may be some time before the pardon is considered. Given the problems in the south-west, and elsewhere.’

‘Yes.’ Fordhill turned and looked out of his window – which like Boleyn’s had a view over Norwich. ‘Thank God things are quiet here, though I believe there are a few makebates around the town.’ He turned back to us, and said gruffly, ‘I am sorry for what happened last week at the hanging. You both seem to have played a brave part. I understand you were injured, Serjeant Shardlake.’

‘I am much improved now.’

Fordhill was silent a moment, then he frowned and barked, in sudden anger, ‘I am responsible for carrying out the Assize sentences. For a pardon to go missing was a disgrace!’

I asked quietly, ‘Do you know how it happened, sir?’

He shook his head. ‘I questioned Judge Reynberd. He said that when he signed the stay of execution, he gave it to his chief clerk to make a copy for me, to be brought over urgently.’

‘That would be Master Arden.’ The chief clerk who had had Barak sacked.

Fordhill raised his eyebrows. ‘You are well informed. Well, Arden swears he made the copy and had a junior clerk run across to the castle and pass it to the senior guard on duty, who should have brought it straight to me. But the guard is quite definite he received nothing. I believe him; he served under me in France. The junior clerk whom Arden sent with the message – I questioned him too; he seemed nervous, but stuck to his story. Unfortunately, Reynberd would not allow me to question him alone; Arden was there, and said as bold as brass that the document had been sent, and must have been lost within the castle.’ He grunted. ‘But I am not letting it go. I have written to Lord Chancellor Rich requesting a full investigation.’

‘Did you mention my involvement?’

‘Yes. I wanted to stress that, but for you, Boleyn would have been illegally hanged. I mentioned you had been injured.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, though I knew that when Rich read that news he was more likely to reward Arden than interrogate him. But why had Arden done it in the first place? For whom? I exchanged a glance with Nicholas.

‘I will not let the matter rest,’ Fordhill went on. ‘It impugns my administration, and my honour.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. I had a momentary flashback of those poor people strangling beside me, knocking against me in their dance of death.

‘In the meantime,’ Fordhill continued, ‘Master Boleyn will be treated well.’

‘And if I may suggest, sir,’ I said, seriously, ‘good care should be taken for his safety. Clearly he has enemies.’

Fordhill nodded. ‘You may rest easy. Nothing amiss will happen while he is in my custody.’

* * *

WE RODE SLOWLY BACK to the Maid’s Head. ‘Will Boleyn be safe?’ Nicholas asked.

‘I think so. Fordhill’s whole reputation is at stake.’

‘You think the clerk Arden was responsible for Boleyn being nearly hanged?’

‘It looks like it, unless Reynberd was involved. But I doubt that, the possible consequences for him could not be more serious. No, I think somebody paid Arden, and paid well.’

‘And he is gone to the Suffolk Assizes. Another person we should question out of reach.’

‘Well, we shall be back in London soon, and can look into it ourselves.’

‘Your back is really better?’

I smiled with relief. ‘Yes, truly. Though I am glad Josephine is coming later to give me another massage. Barak is chaperoning her again.’